#ventober

Odd. Venti isn’t the type to just sit in complete silence very often. Even when he’s sleeping, he always leaves soft music playing in the background, almost as if he’s trying to avoid the silence.

You make your way into the kitchen, and begin to catch on to what must have happened here while you were out. Six empty bottles of various wines sit scattered around on the counter, and a seventh bottle has obviously been smashed to pieces on the floor. Venti doesn’t really drop things on accident. He’s got reflexes like a cat. Besides, there’s no wine on the floor, just glass.

It doesn’t take long for you to put two and two together and realize that a particular type of storm really must have rolled through.

You find him in the bathroom. There’s no way he didn’t notice you opening the door, but he makes no move to acknowledge your presence either. You take in his appearance. Hair hanging loose and messy where his braids have fallen out. The tips are glowing, just like his eyes and his archon marks are. Well, what you can see of them from between the parted fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, at least. They fade from a bright blue to a soft teal, in and out along with his breathing.

He seems half dressed, his vision, cape, corset, hat and accessories all gone. Standing with his back to you in just his shorts and shirt, you can see his tense expression in the mirror. He’s obviously had a bad day. His thin fingers are gripping the edge of the counter so hard you were surprised that it wasn’t crumbling underneath the force. Though, as usual, even when pushed to his breaking point, he was never one to forget his own strength. Not nowadays, at least.

He didn’t like having to use it, didn’t like it when others would look at him in fear after seeing even a fraction of what he’s truly capable of, so he keeps it reigned in. Tries to make himself look the least imposing he can. He wants to appear approachable. Friendly, warm, and safe. He usually does his best to mirror the way his friend had always carried himself, and tonight he seems to be having trouble doing that. He’s upset about something, that much is obvious… and you know him well enough to know that he’s not letting himself feel it. Not fully.

You attempt to break the staring contest he’s having with himself in the mirror. It’s a little off-putting, honestly, given the fact that he can go a concerning amount of time without blinking. Or moving.. at all. Standing here in the bathroom, as still as any one of the statues carved in his image that decorate the peaks and valleys of the City of Freedom. He’s actually kind of unsettling when he’s angry, and you’re willing to bet that’s exactly what he’s mad about in the first place. He doesn’t like himself like this.

You’re not truly afraid of him, though. Never have been. Venti has never once raised so much as a single hand against you in anger. You can’t even recall the last time he raised his voice around you. He doesn’t want anyone to see him when he’s upset… when he’s angry. Least of all, you. But you’ll be damned if you’re going to just walk away and let him try and deal with these emotions on his own. He’s had to do that for long enough. You’re here now and you’re going to do what you can to help him work through this.

You try to keep your voice as soft and gentle as you can when you break the silence.

“Something’s bothering you, Venti.”

His eyes dart to your reflection in the left corner of the mirror and they stay on you for a long moment. He still doesn’t blink. His lips are pressed together in a stoic, straight line. He parts them, and speaks.

“Barbatos.”

His eyes flick back to their prior position, glaring back into his reflection.

“It’s Barbatos. No one-" he pauses for a moment, seemingly searching his face for something recognizable and failing to find it, “-no one else.”

Just like you suspected, he’s struggling with his identity again tonight. It doesn’t happen often these days but it certainly does still happen. Your heart aches for him every time, watching him look upon his own form with such disdain. You attempt to talk him down.

“Okay… that’s okay.”

You make your way further into the bathroom and lean back against the door frame.

“Then, Barbatos, is there any particular reason you’re not Venti tonight, love?”

He closes his eyes and lets his head quickly drop forward to press his forehead against the mirror. The impact sounds like it hurt but if it does he doesn’t show it.

“I can’t be Venti. Not tonight. Not when I’m like… this.”

He takes a deep breath, and it comes out shaky like he’s trying to steady himself. When he turns around and looks up at you, you notice the pale blue tear tracks running down over the apples of his cheeks, and you feel a pain in your chest. There are few sights more upsetting than looking your very own God dead in the eyes and watching them cry. It’s.. it’s painful. Seeing how much he’s struggling to keep himself together. You want to rush towards him, wrap him up in your embrace and put the pieces of him back together. You also want to give him space if that’s what he needs right now. So you settle for something in between. You cross the floor and hold out a hand, giving him an invitation, a choice- and watch as he takes yours in his and starts tracing the lines across your palm, trying to calm himself enough to speak. His breathing is so unsteady, like he’s holding back tears.

“I can’t disrespect his memory by behaving so recklessly. It’s not becoming of anything that he stood for. He wanted freedom, and I loved him so much that his dreams became my own. He died fighting for it, for this future of free will and peace, and what did I do? I created myself in his very image and kept fighting. I rearranged the very earth with the power that came from my grief. I took life. I… I took many lives. Everything I’ve done since… I did it all in his image.”

Guilt is a hell of an emotion, with its way of eating away at you from the inside.

He’s still tracing the lines across your palm, over and over like he’s trying to memorize them. It’s easier for him to speak this honestly when he has something else to focus on. You slowly bring your other hand up and begin to ghost it along his arm, from shoulder down to wrist and then back up again. His thoughts continue to spill out.

“I have a very bad feeling that he wouldn’t be very proud of the things I’ve done. I mean- it’s been so long, how can I even be sure that he wouldn’t hate the person I’ve become? I was a wisp when he knew me, and now I’m this God that’s done so many things in the name of freedom that I just… I-I don’t know if the ends justified the means.”

He looks up and to the side, still unable to meet your gaze, and you watch fresh turquoise tears pool in his eyes.

“What if I could have done things differently? What if I had thought clearer… and taken more careful, controlled steps on the journey to freedom? How many lives could I have saved from becoming casualties of the storms I created? What if…”

His voice cracks on the last word and you pray that he doesn’t notice the tears threatening to fall from your own eyes. He takes one more shaky breath and looks directly up, speaking his final question to the heavens as much as to you.

“What if all that I am is a storm?”

Feeling something akin to relief from the weight of his long-unspoken worries being lifted now that he’s voiced them, he lets himself fall forward into you and you immediately reach out to catch him. He cries into your shoulder, and you bring one arm down to circle around his waist. Your other hand reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, keeping him as close to you as possible. You don’t even need to think to find your response, the words sitting ready on your tongue, waiting to spill out the moment you part your lips.

“Barbatos, you are the breeze that carries dandelion seeds across Mondstadt, imbued with the hopes and prayers of your children. You were the constant updraft that kept me from falling when we fought Stormterror. You dry the clothes hanging out on the lines. You keep the windmills turning in their perpetual motion. Cecilias can only grow on the cliffs where your energy blows freely, without restraint. You are the oxygen that fuels the life-saving campfires that burn on Dragonspine. You bring love, and the scent of apple blossoms towards the city in the spring. You are the warm gusts of summer air that wrap around every single traveler that steps foot into this land, letting them know that they are welcome here. You are the soft whisper in the fall breeze that tells every single child of yours upon returning to Mondstadt that they are safe, and that they are home now. You carry the passionate voices of the bards performing in the street. You have carried the voices of every single citizen of this nation when they cried out for freedom.”

You have to pause and take a deep breath of your own, running your hand up and down his back, slowly, gently trying to calm both of yourselves down. He holds you tighter. His crying has slowed to a halt, nothing more than a soft and quiet whine of protest emitting from him in response to your honest words.

You aren’t so presumptuous as to think that your words can completely lift the centuries of guilt that he carries, but you’re sure as hell going to try. Over and over, no matter how many times he needs to hear it, you will be there to remind him of all of the good that continues to exist in this world because of him. To remind him that he is so, so much more than the storms he has created.

You break the silence that has fallen over the two of you once again.

“Can you look at me for a moment, love?”

Pulling back just enough to slip your hand under his chin, he doesn't resist when you gently guide him to look at you. You wipe a stray tear from his cheek.

Catching his gaze, you hold it. Neither of you blink as his watery, blue eyes look up and meet yours.

God, you wish he could see himself the way you see him. He's something far beyond holy to you.

~

You're working the bar alongside Charles at Angel's Share tonight.

You didn't expect your appearance there during Bartender's Academy Week to turn into such a popular event, but even after all this time, wherever you go in Teyvat, a crowd seems to follow. So, after it was over, and when Diluc realized that he wasn't going to be able to escape the never-ending questions from patrons about when you were going to return, he offered you a part-time position. Well, really, it was more of a- "I know you're busy but could you please stop by the tavern and work a shift whenever you're in the area so they'll stop pestering me about it" -type of offer, if you were to quote Master Diluc verbatim.

So, your appearances slowly became more and more frequent as you began to fall in love with the job. You weren't really in dire need of the mora, you just genuinely loved being there. After many, many years of traversing worlds, fighting Gods and monsters alike, settling down for a while and spending time in Mondstadt was a very welcome change of pace. Mixing and serving drinks, chatting with your favorite people, and- of course- watching Venti in his element.

Standing in your spot behind the bar, your left hip is propped against it, leaning back with your shoulders against the wall in the far right corner of the room. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in deep and listening to the sound of your partner's voice filling the tavern. Looking down, you stir and sip on a hot, fresh Moonlit Alley that you’ve just made for yourself, cradled in your always-cold hands. Your third of the evening, actually. Another perk of working here, besides admiring Venti in your free time, is making your own drinks. Honestly, with the fact that both you and Venti drink here for free, and that Diluc’s paying you, you’re not sure how he isn’t losing out on mora here. You’ll file that question away for another day, you suppose.

Charles has stepped out the back door for a break, leaving you to man the bar for a little while. Fine by you, considering that business has slowed down considerably for the day anyways. The evening has slipped into night, and the usual rush of customers has settled down to just the regulars that tend to stick around until closing.

Venti, in his usual high spirits, has haphazardly kicked his shoes off and perched himself atop a table in the center of the room. Sitting with his legs crossed and lyre in his arms, he’s currently performing one of the songs he plays most often. You know it by heart at this point, with how much you hear him strumming the tune, but you could never get tired of hearing him sing.

The same thing cannot, apparently, be said by one particularly inebriated individual sitting at the far end of the bar you’re leaning against. He’s been unpleasant all evening, grumbling to himself about one thing or other underneath his breath. You been trying to be nice and not bother him, hoping he’ll drink his fill and stumble on home sooner than later, but things never go as smoothly as you hope when alcohol is involved.

Without warning, he slams his fist down on the bar, the impact and the noise causing you to flinch. The sudden movement sloshes your drink all down the front of your shirt, and you quietly curse. The music coming from the other side of the tavern immediately ceases, causing you to look up and momentarily lock eyes with Venti. You see something alert and intense flash in his eyes and the next second it’s gone- replaced with his usual half-lidded, relaxed, ten-glasses-and-seven-shots-in expression. He saw the way the man made you flinch.

Before you can register what could have possibly set the man off, or question Venti’s momentary break in character, the man is stomping his way over to the group of people gathered around the bard.

Well, stomping may be putting it generously. While he is of a pretty large stature, and his loud, drunken movements are a bit intimidating, he’s more-so stumbling than he is stomping. Which is intimidating in it's own right considering he looks like he could and would crush any unfortunate soul he happened to land on if he fell. He gets a little too close to Venti for your liking and you don’t understand why your body won’t move. You want to go over there. You want to put yourself between Venti and this threat. You want to knock him on his ass and drag him out the door after the way he’s been acting all night.

Instead of doing any of those things, your feet stay glued to the floor and your back stays pressed against the wall behind the bar. You can’t believe yourself. You’ve fought literal Gods and you can’t make yourself face one angry, drunk man. Maybe you really have gotten soft, spending so much time in a place as safe and calm as the City of Freedom.

You suddenly remember how Barbatos said he'd help you learn about peace and composure. How to cope with your innate urge to fight. You're starting to think that maybe you've learned too much, because now your body can't decide what to do with itself.

With Venti’s intimate connection to the wind, he can easily hear how rapid your breathing has become, even from the other side of the tavern. He can tell that you’re fighting with yourself over what to do here. Wanting to defend him, and wanting to hide. Not knowing which side of yourself to obey.

Venti knows you. He knows what you'd do to the man if you got your hands on him. When you look up again to watch the scene unfolding, he catches your eyes and whispers something that somehow, only you can hear.

“Stay where you are, love.

You know I can handle this.

It’s okay. I swear.”

Of course, leave it to Venti to speak so poetically while you’re having an internal crisis.

His words do distract you enough to calm you down a bit, though. You try to focus on your breathing as Venti shifts his attention to the man who has braced himself against a table, thankfully not trying to get any closer to Venti. Apparently he just wants someone to yell at, given what comes out of his mouth next.

“Do you even KNOW any other songs?!”

Venti cocks his head to the side a little bit, doing a great job of looking genuinely confused at the man’s words. He keeps any hint of offense out of his voice when he responds, friendly and upbeat as ever.

“Uhm.. pardon me, Sir? I know many songs! If there’s something else you’d like to hear, I’d be happy to play it!”

How he can be so kind in the face of cruelty will never cease to astonish you.

Images of him on the ground in front of the cathedral flash in your mind. The way he refused to fight back against Signora. You remember ice, and hands forcing you down to the concrete. You remember being weak. You remember burning rage. You wanted to claw your way inside her chest and tear her heart out for having the audacity to lay hands upon your God.

You wish he’d quit letting people take their anger out on him, but... maybe he knows something you don’t. Maybe he feels responsible to take these people's rage. Maybe.. maybe he’s just too goddamn passive. You quickly dismiss the upsetting images and thoughts, shaking your head so hard it makes you dizzy for a moment. You do not have time to be caught up in the past right now.

You tune back in to the man’s slurring words.

“Oh, don’t give me that act, bard. Sitting here all pretty in that little outfit... trying to.. tryna’ be all cute and polite 'n ssshit.”

You bristle upon hearing the man call Venti pretty like that.

You know what he's implying and it makes you want to wrap your hands around his throat. Dig your razor sharp nails in deep. You'd watch as his skin beneath your hands begins to dissolve in response to your Corrosion. Watch his blood seep out between your fingers. You want to make him beg for your mercy. Make him repent for uttering such words in the face of a God.

You want to.

You need to move.

Why won't your fucking feet move.

As you silently fight yourself, the man keeps speaking.

“You’re no better than the rest of us drunkards here and you know it. Comin’ in here every night and slammin’ drinks back, pulling out that fuckin' harp 'n playin’ the same. damn. songs. every night."

His fist slams down on the table over and over as he speaks, emphasizing his words.

You flinch every time.

Why can't you breathe?

He sweeps his arm out across the table as he stands up, knocking a bottle and two mugs off in the process. You hear the glass bottle shatter, and watch the spilled alcohol spread out across the floorboards as if in slow motion.

"I’m sick of hearin’ it!”

The room quickly erupts into a cacophony of drunken arguing. The well-meaning patrons jumping to Venti’s defense would have been heartwarming if it weren’t for the chaos being created, the burning hot coffee soaking your shirt, and the indecipherable look on Venti’s face. He’s still sitting there, an almost hurt look in his eyes, gripping his lyre tight as he watches everyone argue around him. He doesn’t look scared as much as he looks... disappointed. Concerned. Solemn.

Sober.

Your eyes break away from Venti when Charles comes into your field of view, and you barely register him asking if you’re okay. You nod on instinct, dismissing the mess on your shirt and the counter, far too focused on the ever-rising voices arguing in the background. He turns his attention to the man that is continuing to cause a scene, and quickly makes his way over to diffuse the situation.

“Excuse me.. Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave..”

As Charles uses his years of experience dealing with drunk, upset people to bring the arguing to a close and ushers the men out of the tavern, you just can’t stop watching Venti. He’s acting so.. different. The way he instantly went from loud, drunk, almost tripping over himself climbing up onto the table earlier, to now, looking as sober and solemn as ever.. it’s odd.

He takes a deep breath and dismisses his lyre back into the void. Your eyes follow him as he gingerly slides down off the table, quickly slips his shoes on without any trouble or sign of losing his balance, and quietly makes his way up the stairs to the second floor of the tavern.

Like he was never even drunk in the first place.

Like he was acting.

As the last of the customers leave their apologies and payments at the bar and make their way out of the tavern, you finally pull yourself out of your thoughts and back into the present. Your breathing is still shallow and fast, but your feet will move again, your body finally obeying the commands you’re giving it. You curse yourself over and over for freezing up the way you did.

Grabbing a towel, you start wiping up the mess on the counter. Your racing thoughts wander to places you don’t want them to go.

If that man had wanted to.. he could have…

He was close enough to Venti to…

Would he even have defended himself if that man had…

You weren’t there to protect him.

Charles comes back in as you’re attempting to soak up the worst of the drink you spilled out of your shirt.

“I’m sorry. Should’ve known the moment I went out on break somebody was gonna cause a scene.”

He watches as you aggressively scrub at the mess, honestly just making it worse.

He cocks his head at you.

“You sure you’re okay?”

You realize your efforts to remove the stain are pointless. You breathe a heavy sigh and turn your attention to Charles.

“Yeah… yeah man, I’m alright. I’ve faced far, far more intimidating things than some big drunk guy yelling a bunch of nonsense. You know me. I’m good... he just caught me off guard.”

Why do you feel like you’re lying?

You’re fine.. right?

You wished your voice sounded more sure of your words, but you can’t really help it at this point. You just want to go find Venti, but you continue trying to explain yourself. Charles is already more aware of your.. issues than you realize but he listens nonetheless.

“The atmosphere here is usually so calm at night, and I was just watching Venti like usual and.. I don’t know. That guy’s rage just came out of nowhere and made me jump. I’m fine. Honestly.”

There’s something knowing and empathetic in Charles’ eyes.

“Alright, well.. if you say you’re okay, I believe you. But still, Venti seems to have vanished, you've clearly had a long day, and I’m sure you want to go home and change clothes. Why don’t you let me clean up here and you can go ahead and head out?”

Wasting no time, he's already started picking up the pieces of the broken bottle on the floor.

As tempting as the offer sounds, you feel bad just walking out of here like this. The mess isn’t that bad but still…

“I- I can’t make you do that, it’s not even your mess and it won’t take that long to clean up.. I mean-"

You stop speaking when he turns around and gives you a pointed look, a kind smile on his face.

“I’ve cleaned up this tavern by myself more times than I can count. If I really didn’t like it, I wouldn’t work here. Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to wrap things up here.”

You sigh, making a mental note to pay him back for this favor, and you gratefully accept his offer.

“Okay.. okay, yeah.. thank you, Charles. I really appreciate it.”

You quickly make your way over to the stairs, following the fading trail of Anemo feathers that only you can see.

“Hey, don’t mention it. Just go find that boyfriend of yours before he disappears into thin air again.”

Charles laughs a little, a lighthearted sound, as he says that. You process what he said about halfway up the stairs and you whip your head around to look at him. You almost speak up to ask how he knew you were following Venti's trail but he’s already made his way into the back room to gather cleaning supplies. You shake your head, deciding to let it go because right now… with the way he worded that… you are too tired to try and figure out exactly how much he really does know about Venti.

Besides, bartenders are good at keeping secrets.

~

Venti isn’t on the second floor. Your elemental sight tells you that he didn’t sneak his way up to the storage room on the third floor either. Following the little Anemo feathers that Venti leaves in his wake, you instead are lead out to the balcony. Stepping outside, you immediately take in a breath of fresh, cool night air. As much as you love spending time inside the tavern, the first deep breath you take after exiting the establishment is always a welcome relief.

It would be even more relieving if Venti were out here, but of course, he’s never been that easy to find.

The trail of Anemo feathers has ended in a sizable group of them scattered across the edge of the balcony. Almost like he summoned the winds to take him up higher…

Oh.

Of course.

He’s on the roof.

As you make your way up to the top of Angel’s Share, you hear a familiar sound. It’s not a sound you’d ever heard before coming to Teyvat. After all, nowhere else you’ve been has had creatures such as these.

Peeking your head up over the edge of the roof, you see exactly what you thought you would. He's sat down, straddling one of the higher ridges atop the tavern. Several little wind wisps are hovering around him, chirping and speaking to Venti in a language you’ve yet to understand. They’re flocking to him like he’s their mother or something.

Hm.

You quickly file that question away for another day, too.

You haul yourself up onto the roof, as gracefully as you can after the night you’ve just had, trying not to disturb any of them.

Venti’s head tilts, looking down at you. He looks so tired… and there’s a quiet sadness in his eyes. It’s times like this that he looks a lot less like Venti, and a lot more like Barbatos to you. To the unfamiliar eye there probably isn’t much of a difference, but you know him better than that.

It’s something in his face. Something in his eyes. In the way he carries himself, and the way he speaks. It’s subtle, but it’s there. A knowing look that can only come from centuries of experience. A sort of… quiet acceptance.

He is fascinating to you, but you didn’t come up here just to stare at him from afar.

Nodding towards the wisps flitting about all around him, you softly speak.

“Do you think they’ll flee if I get any closer to you?”

He smiles a little bit at your question, his eyes soften, and he shakes his head slowly.

“They’re not afraid of you. I’ve told them who you are. You're welcome to come closer if you’d like.”

He says that like he doesn’t already know how badly you want to wrap him up in a hug and apologize for everything that happened this evening. You know it’s not completely your fault but you still feel so guilty, like you could have done more. Like you should have done more. Like you failed him when your body betrayed you and chose to freeze instead of fight.

You climb the rest of the way up, and settle down behind him, wrapping your protective arms around his small frame.

He takes note of your trembling hands, and gently wraps them in his.

He takes a deep breath in, thinking for a moment, and breaks the silence.

“You smell like chocolate… and coffee.”

You huff a little, more of a laugh than a noise of offense, and nuzzle your face down into the soft black hair at the nape of his neck.

“Mhm..” you hum, and pull back, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. “…and you smell like wine.”

You look down and watch as his hat, discarded on the roof beside him, begins to float a little bit. Before you can even be properly confused, one of the wisps slips out from underneath it, and chirps in success as it ascends to float around with the others.

“Did you trap that thing underneath your hat?”

That gets a proper laugh out of him, albeit a small one, and he shakes his head again.

“No, of course not. I'll have you know that it crawled under there of its own volition.”

He gently reaches out and slowly picks his hat up, revealing two more wisps cuddled up together like they were camping and his hat was the tent. They chirp loudly in protest of having their cover blown. Venti smiles.

“They like to hide in there sometimes, what can I say?”

You watch as he gently places the hat back down over them, and reaches back to his lap to take your hands in his again.

They’re shaking a bit less now.

You think for a moment, and speak again.

“They’re really cute, you know. How they’re so playful with you. They really trust you, don’t they?”

He nods, slowly reaching one hand out and holding it open in the air. One wisp flies over and gently lowers itself into his palm, curling up into a ball and resting there.

“We’re like family, you know. They know that I’ll protect them.”

Watching him like this, perfectly still, calm, steady and gentle, it’s really hard to believe that less than an hour ago he was just drunk off his ass, throwing back shots and climbing on furniture to sing whatever song was requested of him next.

Like, really hard to believe.

You figure now is as good of a time as ever to ask the question that you've been sitting on for quite a long time now.

“You’re completely sober, aren’t you, Venti?”

To his credit, he doesn't even seem caught off guard by the sudden question. He knows that you've suspected this for a while, and was almost waiting to see how long it would take you to figure him out.

He nods, looking straight ahead, out over the empty streets of the city. From your position behind him, you lean to the left, around his side to try and see his expression better as he answers you.

“I always have been, love.”

You breathe a sigh of relief that you didn't even notice you had been holding, and it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You watch me so closely... and you're around me so often, I'm almost surprised it took you this long to ask me that, Windblume."

He doesn't sound disappointed, or upset that you've figured out his secret. He almost sounds relieved.

"Well, I think I've known it for quite a while, actually, I just.. wasn't sure, and didn't want to ask until I was. I always thought that with you being.." you lower your voice even further before you speak your next words, "an Archon..."

As you pause to choose your words carefully, you slide your right hand up his arm, from his wrist to his elbow and over his bicep, stopping to rest on his right shoulder. Absentmindedly, you start to massage your thumb into the tense muscles there. He's always holding more tension than he seems to be.

"...I thought that you might just have a really high tolerance, and that it wore off really quickly afterwards, too. But then sometimes, while I watch you perform, or just joke around with people in the tavern, you seem to almost.. break character sometimes."

He hums and nods a little in response to your words, not interrupting but wanting you to know that he's listening.

"Like.. like you were acting, for lack of a better way to put it. You could snap out of it and right back in so quickly that I started to wonder if you were ever actually drunk in the first place. Just like tonight, when you suddenly broke character to tell me that everything was okay. Then, the way you watched the scene unfold and quickly slipped out of the room... it just didn't add up how you could switch so quickly if you were truly intoxicated."

Venti leans back into you and lets your words hang in the air for a moment, processing them.

"You're too damn observant, you know that?"

You're relieved when you can clearly hear the smile in his voice.

"You're right though, about all of it. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough wine in the world to get me drunk. Archons aren't capable of getting drunk on something as weak as alcohol. No matter how strong the brew, it just doesn't affect us like that. It's like trying to get drunk off of apple juice. It tastes really nice, sure, and too much of it can make you feel sick from the sugar, but it won't intoxicate you."

You hum in thought, and another question pops into your mind, though you believe you may already know the answer.

"Then, if you don't mind me asking, why do you drink so much? Or... why do you drink it at all?"

Due to the way he's leaning back into you, the laughter that bubbles up out of him in reaction to your question jostles you both.

"How do I explain it... Well, you know how you love the taste, and the experience of making and drinking coffee?"

"Yeah..?"

"Still, you don't like what the caffeine does to you, so you drink decaf instead."

Of course, he's found another parallel between the two of you.

"It's like that! I truly do love the taste of wine, and all sorts of spirits for that matter. I also love the atmosphere of the tavern. I get to be among my people, sing and drink to my hearts content, and.. yes, I do get to act like... like someone I'm not, I suppose."

He sighs a little bit, almost feeling guilty about the admission.

"I get to forget that I'm this powerful celestial being and for a while... I can just be Venti. He's a fun character to play, I guess. Not that the things I do and say when I'm 'drunk' aren't genuine, mind you."

He reaches up and does little air quotes around the word drunk, and you smile.

"I'm always me. There's just.. two different sides of me. They mix quite often, and I'm usually somewhere in between Barbatos and Venti at any given time. I'm sure you've gathered that by now."

You nod, and now it's time for you to do some explaining of your own.

"I have, love. I've definitely gathered that. Also, for the record, I love both of you, equally. I fell in love with all of you, not just one side, or one part."

You reach up and carefully tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"I don't mind it when you're 'drunk', honestly. I obviously wouldn't be with you if I were constantly upset by part of who you are. Honestly, though... you've always kind of been an enigma to me. I never pictured myself with someone like you. Not that there's anything wrong with you, of course not. We're just so.. different. It's something that's always baffled me.. given.. my past."

Venti reaches up and removes your hand from where it's toying with his hair, pulling it forward and you let him take it. You watch as he turns his head to the left in order to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

It's still hard to revisit your past, and explain why you are the way you are. You're grateful for his silent reassurance that you don't have to go over it again. He already knows. The two of you have spent many sleepless nights with you clinging to his cape as you stain his bright white shirt with your black tears.

You already know you're gonna revisit tonight's effect on you at some point in the future. Venti knows that he'll ask you to tell him more about the first man that taught you to be so afraid. Not tonight, though. Tonight he will listen, and nothing more.

"I guess now I know why it never bothered me. Maybe deep down, I've always been able to tell that you're not really intoxicated. Now, are you high on life? Maybe, yeah.."

You both laugh at the expression, but he doesn't deny it.

"I mean, you do have quite the lively spirit when you're doing what you love. But I've never felt unsafe around you. I think my body knew that you weren't going to hurt me, even in the beginning, when my mind wasn't sure."

Venti feels a tightness in his throat upon hearing that you feel safe with him. He pushes the feeling down and speaks through it.

"I'm glad you know that you're safe with me, love. That's all I've ever wanted you to be, and equally importantly- to feel. Safe and sound."

From his own words, the need to protect you suddenly hits him again, and he sits up a little straighter.

He told himself he wouldn't pry tonight, but he has to ask one thing.

He needs to know you're gonna be okay.

"Speaking of, how are you doing? After everything that happened in there, I mean. I could tell that that man wasn't actually going to harm me, you know he couldn't even if he tried, but I know it still scared you. I'm truly sorry for that."

After everything, he's still putting your needs above his own.

You won't stand for that. You're not gonna make this about you.

Not tonight.

"Sorry? No, no- Venti- I should be the one saying that. He was posing a threat to you and I just... I just fucking froze. I should have stepped in to protect you."

There's frustration in your voice that you fail to hide, and you pray that he knows that you're upset with yourself, not him.

Venti leans away from you at that, and for a moment you think you've offended him. Your damaged mind is always thinking you've done something wrong. You watch as he carefully turns himself around to face you, disturbing the many wisps that had settled down to rest on his idle form in the process.

He looks you square in the eyes and counters your protest with a question.

"You do know that I'm with you because I love you, and not just to use you as my personal guard dog, right?"

You nod your head, and smile at his phrasing. Somebody once mentioned, upon seeing the two of you out in public together, that that's kind-of what you look like. Presumably due to the way you tend to watch over him so closely, ready to stand between him and the world, if need be. You're protective of him, and you make no effort to hide it.

"You didn't owe me anything back there, love. I knew you wanted to jump in. I also didn't want to further aggravate the situation. That's why I told you to stay behind the bar. I knew that everything would be fine."

You shake your head.

"Is it though? Are you fine? I mean.. the things he said... you know that's not true, right? None of it was. People love you, and your music, and it's his loss if he can't appreciate the stories you tell in your songs."

His eyes soften, and he sighs a little bit before he responds to you.

“Listen to me, dear. It is not your fault that he apparently had a bad day and decided to take it out on me. Everyone has their own taste, and it doesn't make him wrong for disliking my music. Was it out of line for him to berate me like that, in front of God and everybody?"

You can't help but laugh at him using the phrase that he picked up from you after hearing you say it so often. Of course, he's still trying to keep the mood light. He wants to see you smile, and you do, as he continues.

"Yeah... probably. It's okay, though. I can take it. I won't shatter just because someone got a little too drunk and decided to tell me their honest opinion.”

You can't help but notice that he's only mentioning what the man said about his music, and nothing about what he called him. Nothing about what he implied. You're torn between not pressing the issue and doubling down. If he's taught you anything, though, it's the importance of delicacy.

Gentleness.

You reach out and take his hands in yours once again. Your hands are steady now, allowing you to notice the slight tremble of his own as you thread your fingers together.

"I know.. I know you're strong. I know you can take it. But- but just because you can take it doesn't mean you should have to! You are so, so passive and... it's admirable but.. I don't know, Venti. I guess I just don't know how you do it. I'm afraid that you're secretly carrying all of these negative feelings and that one day they're gonna be too much for you to bear. I just.."

Your grip on his hands tightens.

"I don't want you to break on me, love."

Venti looks a little surprised at your words.

He bows his head and looks down for a long moment, taking a few slow, deep breaths. Both of you sit in the silence for a little while.

The wisps gather around the two of you again as you both remain still, and they get closer and closer to Venti, landing all over his form. It's almost like they're trying to hug him, you muse to yourself.

You eventually feel something wet land on your hand, and your first thought is that it's starting to rain.

Great, now you're both gonna be sad and wet.

You look up, but feel nothing hit your face. You feel another drop on your hand and you look down to where they're held in Venti's grip. Thanks to the fact that it's dark out, you're able to see that the liquid landing on your hands isn't clear rainwater. It's turquoise, and it's glowing.

He's crying.

For a brief moment you're too stunned to speak. You're not used to seeing him cry, but you find your voice in spite of your shock and speak to him softly.

"Venti? I-I didn't mean to make you cry, love.. I just.."

Your words trail off as the metaphorical dam breaks and his shoulders begin to shake from the force of his silent sobs.

"Oh, honey... sweetheart, come here."

You pull him further towards you, guiding him to wrap his arms around your waist and letting his head rest on your shoulder. He's so quiet when he cries, you'd never know it from just listening to him. His shaking body and glowing tears are a bit of a giveaway, though.

You rub circles over his back and he slowly but surely calms back down. He makes no move to pull away and neither do you, opting to stay together just as you are as he speaks again.

"I- I don't know what got into me.. I'm sorry."

"Venti, you do not ever need to apologize for crying, or for being upset."

"I just... I'm still not used to anyone caring so much about my wellbeing. It caught me off guard. I mean.. yeah, I get my feelings hurt sometimes. I'm not immune to the things people have said to me just because they think I'm some small, weak bard that can't fight back. Not to mention the things that have been said to me because they know I'm some small, weak God that won't fight back."

He pulls in a shaky breath and you pull him a little closer as you continue listening to him.

"I'm used to it.. I guess. I'd rather just let people speak their peace and carry on, thinking they got the upper hand, than cause a scene by fighting back. I'm tired of fighting, and over time I've learned it's often not even worth it. It's no fun having to act like things don't bother me, but over time I got pretty good at it."

Your heart breaks at the way he's learned to handle things.

You gently pull back from the embrace, wanting to see him properly. His cheeks are flushed from crying, and his eyes look so tired.

"Those words can still hurt you, Venti. Over time, they build up and if you don't process them somehow, they'll eat you alive."

He looks down as one of the wisps bumps into his arm. It looks up at him and, having gotten his attention, makes a series of noises that you can't decipher. From his response, it seems the wisp was echoing your sentiment.

"I know."

He looks away from the wisp and back up to you.

"I do. I guess my coping mechanisms aren't as fool-proof as they once were. I usually keep a good handle on it. I guess it's just gotten harder to do over time. Sometimes, I do wonder if I'm not getting weaker, instead of stronger, as time goes on."

He tilts his head back, looking up at the stars that decorate the night sky. The midnight breeze feels nice on his warm, flushed face.

"Sometimes I just don't know."

You reach forward and slip your finger underneath the bow that holds his cape together. The weight of the cape tends to pull the bow back, and it ends up pulling on the base of his neck. It looks uncomfortable, so you gently ease it forward, and reach out to pull the cape further forward across his shoulders, trying to alleviate the pressure.

You speak to him as you fiddle with his clothes.

"Sometimes, I think that all a person needs is to speak, openly and honestly, about the things that are weighing them down. Like we're doing here, right now. There's power in language. I know you know that. I believe that part of that power is in the relief we feel when we share our burdens with someone who cares about us."

Shifting his attention away from the heavens and back down to you, he feels warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of your soft, kind expression. He watches the way your lips move as you speak.

"I care about you, Venti. An awful lot... and I am always, always willing to listen to you. No matter what it is, good or bad, a song or a story, I want to hear it."

The way his focus flickers back and forth between your eyes and your lips is not lost on you. You lean a bit closer to him, and reach out to cup his cheek, still warm from crying.

You lower your voice to a whisper.

"Please, promise me you won't keep carrying all of these feelings by yourself. Someone as light as you should never be weighed down by the negativity of others, nor by the hate in the world."

He breathes in deep, and nods once.

"I'll try... to let you help more. To let you in. I promise you."

Your hands stop toying with the soft ends of his braids, and one moves to gently cradle the back of his neck. He leans into you on instinct.

His eyes fall closed as you pull him towards you, closing the remaining gap between the two of you.

You lean up and place a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I won't let your burdens drag you under, Barbatos."

You move down and place another, feather light, on the tip of his nose. He smiles.

"I will not let them."

Your lips finally meet his, and you feel him fully relax in your hold.

When you break the kiss, neither of you pull back, instead leaning your foreheads against one another and breathing softly.

You bring your arms up, straighten your legs out and stretch as much as one can with a sleeping animal atop them. Flexing your wrists and rolling your ankles, you wonder how tired you must have been last night to have slept in longer than him.

"And his fist, Cut the smoke, I had an eighth of a second to wonder if he got the joke."

Venti's voice grounds you more effectively than anything else ever could, and finally, you feel steady enough to face the daylight.

Breathing in deep, you let out a long sigh and blink open your eyes as you reach down to the small white dog on your stomach. Rhythm stirs in response to the feeling of your nails combing through her fur. You smile down at her.

"Morning, sweet girl."

Rhythm blinks up at you. You shift a bit.

"Think you could move to Venti's side of the bed so I can get up?"

Rhythm huffs in response and uncurls herself, ungracefully rolling down off of your side and onto the mattress in the process.

You huff a laugh at the indignant display and sit up, turning to face the dog.

"Why didn't you wake me up when Venti got up, huh? You want to use me as a pillow so badly you'd let him beat me into the shower?"

Rhythm just stares at you as her tail swishes across the bedsheets.

"Okay, fine, I do usually shower at night but last night was an exception!"

Looking at the clock, you cringe at the time. 8:32. You need to get ready soon if you're gonna have time to pick up the packages from Springvale and make it to the city on time. Sighing, you're almost glad Venti's already up, but you do miss the feeling of waking up beside him, even if it's just this one morning. There's something calming to you about being the first one awake, with Venti sound asleep beside you. The absolute peace of the moment.

Come to think of it, why is Venti not only awake, but already in the shower? He must have taken your request for help last night pretty seriously if he's already getting ready for the day. Usually you have to drag him out of bed with a promise of breakfast and a kiss.

Through your silent thoughts, you pick up on the muted sound of Venti's singing once again.

"In a room, By myself, Looks like I'm here with a guy that I judge worse than anyone else."

Looking back down at Rhythm, you push down an emotion you can't name and continue your one sided conversation with the half-asleep dog attempting to make a nest out of the bedsheets.

"Look at the time, Rhythm. I've overslept. Now he's beat me to it and you know how long that man spends in the shower."

Rhythm makes no visible effort to acknowledge your words.

You close your eyes again, and focus one more time on Venti's voice traveling from down the hall.

"So I pace, And I pray, And I repeat the mantras that might keep me clean for the day."

Your mind wanders to last night.

-

The two of you were in the kitchen throwing together a late dinner. As usual, you were exhausted but still eternally grateful to be able to end the day in peace, with good music and good food. Venti had picked the song playing from the phonograph in the corner, and something about the tune was making you feel… content. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed to hear.

You recall watching Venti reach up and pull a wine glass out of the cabinet, singing to himself while quickly turning and setting it down on the kitchen table. Idly stirring the rice frying in the pan on the stove, you watched Venti dance his way across the kitchen to open the refrigerator. Noticing the way his voice died down, you watched as he suddenly halted like he'd just remembered something.

Opening the door, he reached inside and his hand hovered over the neck of a half-empty bottle of wine from the day before. He was completely still for a long moment, thinking. Visibly, he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising up and dropping back down on the exhale. Looking something between disappointed and resolute, he retracted his hand, reaching instead towards the containers in the door.

Pulling out a bottle of apple juice that Sucrose had gifted to him, he smiled at the memory of her nervously explaining that an experiment had turned it into something akin to the taste of wine, although it wasn't an alcoholic beverage. She had been working on something for Diona, and while this wasn't what the bartender had wanted, Sucrose thought Venti might like it.

You watched transfixed, nearly letting the rice burn, as he nodded to himself, shutting the refrigerator door and bringing the bottle to the table. Opening it, he poured the juice into his wine glass and took a tentative sip. A look of satisfaction slowly crossed his face, and when Venti looked up from his glass, he caught you staring.

Smiling, he picked up his glass, walking around to the stove. Wrapping one arm around your waist, holding his drink in the other, he let his head rest against your shoulder. Looking down at the pan, he spoke up over the music playing in the background.

"The rice is gonna burn, love."

-

Snapping back to the present, you feels Rhythm's paw on your thigh, as she tries to climb back on top of you. Shaking your head, you pull yourself out of your memories and slide your legs off the side of the bed, stretching and yawning as you stand.

Rhythm huffs in annoyance and instead makes her way over to one of Venti's pillows, and you watch her curl up on the middle of it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I do have to get up eventually."

Your gaze roams over the floor for a few moments, passing over discarded clothes, dog toys, and Rhyme, laying in his bed in the corner. The large black dog looks up at you as you approach him, squatting down to pet him. He raises his head to lick your hand.

“I’m surprised you didn’t follow Venti into the shower. We usually can't keep you away from water. Did he ask you to watch over me while I slept?”

The only response you receive is another lick, this time on your wrist, and you smile as you pull back and stand up, stretching again and reaching for the ceiling.

Dropping your hands to your hips, you think for a moment, looking down at a pair of Venti's shorts, discarded on the floor by the doorway. An exasperated smile grows on your expression, and you reach up, combing your fingers through your messy hair.

Glancing again at the time, you realize you're really gonna need to get ready soon. As you consider Venti's tendency to take his sweet time in the shower, an idea suddenly pops into your mind. Laughing to yourself, you pull up a throw blanket from where it slid off the end of the bed and gently drape it over Rhyme, still talking to the dogs.

"Sorry to leave you guys alone in here, but I've got to go remind your father that there's enough room in that shower for two people."

If either of them understand a word of what you said, they certainly don't show it.

Making your way out of the bedroom, you step over one of Venti's shirts and his shorts. You find his tights laying in the hall, and shake your head with a fond smile, picturing Venti stripping on his way to the shower. Why he doesn't just take it all off in one place you're still not sure.

You recall asking him once and he just shrugged, saying "I'm a free spirit, love. One of the benefits of living in your teapot is the ability to take off whatever I want, wherever I want!"

He accompanied his statement with an overexaggerated wink, and you couldn't stop the laugh that slipped out of you at the sight.

He picks up after himself most of the time, so it doesn't really bother you, per say, you just feel like it's… inefficient.

The shower is still running when you quietly crack open the door, steam immediately spilling out into the hall along with the sound of Venti's voice. You've never understood nor felt the urge to sing in the shower but this man certainly does. He puts on an entire performance every time, even if it’s to an audience of soap bars and shampoo bottles.

As you figured, his underwear are lying on the bath mat, looking like he stepped out of them and directly into the shower. The hair ties from his braids are resting on the counter by the sink, along with one single earring of his that matches the one that you wear in your opposite ear.

"…the church bells are ringing for those who are easy to please,"

Venti's still singing, of course, and his current choice is actually a song that you recognize as one that you introduced him to.

"…and the frost on the ground probably envies the frost on the trees."

When you came to Teyvat, you brought with you some of the music from your homeland, and Venti had been absolutely overjoyed to be introduced to music that he didn't already know.

"And the songs that she sang in the shower are stuck in my mind…"

He quickly learned which ones were your favorites, and in no time he could cover them beautifully.

You stand there, silent, listening to the love of your life sing to himself in the shower and for a moment you're overcome with the emotion of it all.

"…like 'Yesterday's Wine'…"

How lucky you are to have found him after all this time.

"…like yesterday's wine."

God, he's got a beautiful voice.

You take a deep breath and remember what you came in here to do.

Before Venti can finish his song and potentially ruin your surprise, you quickly slip off what remains of yesterday's clothes, and quietly reach out to grab hold of the shower door's handle. Pulling it aside in one quick motion, Venti's voice cracks on a high note as he spins to face the source of the motion.

The thought flashes in your mind right after the fact that Venti could have slipped and fell. Could have hurt himself because you wanted to play a stupid little game with him. You start to internally curse yourself for acting on impulse like that… but stop when you see that he’s okay. He didn’t slip, he’s not hurt, and you watch as Venti's face goes from shocked, to confused, to a mischievous smile.

Venti opens his mouth to say something, but you speak up before he can, gesturing to the water spraying out onto the tile.

"Mind if I join you or are we both gonna stand here making a mess?"

Laughing, Venti shakes his head and moves back into the spray, making room for you to step in and side the door closed.

As the steam wraps itself around you both, you close the distance between yourselves and press your bodies together. Looking at him, with that little smile on his face, you can't resist teasing him a bit.

"Thought you could beat me to the shower this morning, huh, bard?"

There’s humor in Venti’s eyes as he listens to you speak, but it shifts to something a little more knowing as he hears what you call him.

"Oh? Well good morning to you too, love."

Your hands run up his sides, and he notes the way your eyes seem to light up. You hum in response, distracted, so Venti speaks up again with a teasing tone in his voice.

"I think I see how it is today. You just woke up and you're already in a mood, aren't you?"

You’re feigning cluelessness as you run your hands up and down over his back, going lower and lower with every stroke.

"What kind of mood would that be, hm?"

He’s smirking at your response, running his own hands over your hips, stopping and letting his thumbs rest in the dips just above your thighs.

"You know exactly what kind, angel. You never call me bard unless you're in the mood to play with me."

He’s not wrong, but you aren’t ready to admit it.

"Play with you, huh? Playing in the shower's pretty dangerous, you know."

Your tone of voice drops a bit lower and you slide one hand down to the back of Venti’s thigh, lifting him up with no effort at all, and pressing him against the tile wall. Smiling at the way Venti’s gone quiet, you speak again in a dark, serious tone.

“You could slip."

Now, that would sound threatening if you were speaking to anyone else, but Venti just smiles. He knows he’s safe, and he quite likes this game even if he won’t admit it just yet either. You both know what you’re doing to each other, and the unspoken understanding is half of the fun.

He brings his other thigh up and locks his legs around your hips, coming back with a question.

"Alright then, what do you call this if you're not playing with me?"

You reach up and thread your fingers through the back of Venti’s hair.

"I call this… helping you hurry up and get the hell out of my shower."

Gripping his hair just tight enough to pull, but not enough to hurt him, you coax his head back enough to gain access to his throat. Dipping your head down, you trail kisses from his jawline to his collarbones, reveling in the way his breathing hitches and the way he stutters as he speaks.

"H-how in Teyvat is this helping me hurry?”

You bite down on his shoulder and he makes a very embarrassing sound.

“It- f-fuck- it seems to me you're trying to keep me in here."

He can feel the way you chuckle against his skin, placing soft little apology kisses over the bite mark. Pulling back, you smile at him, releasing your grip and threading your fingers through his hair.

"Nonsense. I'm just rinsing you off, love."

He rolls his eyes, smiling at you, always oddly comfortable in your arms regardless of what you’re doing to him. He finds his voice, a bit stronger now that your lips aren’t on his neck, and replies in a playful mocking tone.

"I was already done rinsing off, love."

You huff, faking offense and adjusting your grip on him so you can carefully place him back down. You make sure he’s steady on his feet on the slick shower floor, pulling back a bit but not fully stepping away. Guiding him back underneath the water, you watch as he leans his head back into the spray. He closes his eyes and lets you rinse him off again anyways, which is mostly just an excuse to run your hands over every inch of his body. He's not complaining though.

A comfortable silence falls over the scene, and you let it linger for a moment. Watching the way his chest expands when he breathes in, and the way the archon mark there lights up as he does. Slowly, you trace your fingers over it. He trusts you, and that knowledge fills you with an emotion that makes you want to cry.

Barely resisting the urge to kiss him, you instead break the silence to question him again.

"If you were already done, then why were you still in here, hm?"

Venti is busy focusing on the feeling of your nails gently combing through his hair. With his eyes closed everything feels so much more intense. The water hitting his skin, gentle hands trailing over his body, your voice in his ears. He struggles to get his mind to think clearly enough to come up with a response.

"I was…"

He trails off as your hand makes it's way back to his neck, and his breath hitches when a nail runs along the underside of his jaw.

You freeze, waiting to see how Venti responds, and watch as his eyes blink open again. He looks a little disappointed at the sudden stillness, and you almost feel bad for teasing him.

Almost.

You cock your head to one side, like you're truly curious and not just toying with him.

You ask him again.

"You were what?"

Venti laughs a little at the display and looks up at you, smiling.

"I was… just finishing my song."

You hum in thought, watching the way the water drips down from the ends of his hair, landing on his shoulders and trailing down his chest.

You pull in a deep breath, the steam suddenly feeling suffocating as you remember that you do not have time to start this game today, let alone finish it.

You both need to be at the church soon.

"Well, it never hurts to rinse off again.”

You release him from your hold, nodding in approval as your eyes rake over his form. Your tone of voice switches back to something close to normal, as if you weren’t just about to do something unholy to your God.

“See? All clean."

Venti smirks at you, a knowing look in his eyes, speaking up as he moves to step out of the shower.

"Thank you very much for the assistance, angel. What ever would I do without you?"

The sarcasm in his voice is obviously an attempt at masking how flustered he is, and you find that awfully cute.

Moving to follow Venti, you brace a hand up against the shower doorframe and lean out as he steps onto the mat. You say his name and he turns around with a curious look in his eyes. You reach out and pull him back into a quick kiss before retreating into the shower, quickly sliding the door closed again.

Standing there naked, wet, and flustered, Venti can hear the smile in your voice when you respond to his rhetorical question.

"You'd still be in the shower, probably."

Additional Notes!

Title is from the song that heavily inspired this fic- “Heaven In Hiding” by Halsey.

Title of part 1 is from “Songs That She Sang in the Shower” by Jason Isbell. It is also the song that Venti is quoted to be singing throughout the fic! It’s a beautiful song and you should go give it a listen.

Header Image is from Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

I’ll be back with part 2 in hopefully a few days? Idk. I’m slow but it’s on the way. Y'all will finally make it down to the kitchen and hopefully out of the teapot by the end of pt. 2 lmao.

"Well, I mean go figure. Anyone's going to be like this on their wedding day, right? I'm really excited because holy shit I'm going to be marrying the love of my life, but I'm still so nervous even though I know that he proposed in the first placed and he put his heart and soul into this-" You spit out at record speed. Lisa could only shake her head with a grin in amusement. A knock at the door quickly shut you up. "Come in!" You shouted nervously. Zhongli walked into the room, adorned in a suit of his own.

"I hate to interrupt any conversation but, it's time." Zhongli said with a warm smile. You inhaled sharply as Lisa giggled, handing you your bouquet of Cecilias.

"You'll do great. I can tell he truly loves you." Lisa spoke, bidding you a farewell as she walked down the hall. You held the bouquet in your dominant hand as you linked your remaining arm with Zhongli's.

"I never thought that Barbatos would get married before I did." Zhongli spoke fondly, shaking his head.

"Perhaps it's because you're dating a ginger." You said, trying to calm your nerves. Zhongli rolled his eyes in amusement as you reached the chapel, the door and walk being the only thing to separate you and your soon to be husband. You looked down to Klee who was iggiling in her sweet attire.

"You remember what to do, right young one?" Zhongli asked her. Klee nodded her head excitedly as you took a deep breath before speaking; "Alright, here we go." Zhongli opened the door, and Barbara began to play the music of your choice on the organ while you walked down the aisle with Zhongli. Klee put her small hand into the basket of flower petals and spread them over floor you walked on. All eyes were on you as you looked straight ahead to your fiancé, who was looking directly back at you. I didn't take long for tears to fall down Venti's as he looked at you. All he could think about in that moment was your beauty and how lucky he was that you loved him. Before you knew it, Zhongli let go of your arm and sat amidst everyone in the pews, and you were standing in front of your fiancé. As you locked hands with Venti, your eyes drifted to the same dove that was on the windowsill earlier land on the frame of one of the open windows. It seemed as if it was almost looking at you and your lover specifically.

"You're beautiful." He whispered, astonished, bringing your attention back to him. He never thought you could get any more radiant than you already were, but here you are. You replied with a soft 'Thank you', then letting Seamus Pegg speak.

================================================

Venti slipped the ring onto your finger, his vision once again becoming blurry as he looked into your eyes. Both of your hearts began to beat faster than they already were.

"And now, by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and partner. You may now-" Seamus was cut off, a look of surprise as he watched you kiss, finalizing your marriage. Cheers erupted from the crowd as Venti spun you around, the both of you filling the air with unadulterated laughter. When your husband finally put you down, he cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes lovingly, that same shine from the moment you walked into the room still there.

"Thank you for staying."

The dove that sat on the window changed its form as it watched the church fill with joy. The dove now had the appearance of transparent bard with clothes that would make him stick out like a sore thumb among the modern-day people of Mondstadt. He smiled fondly at the two of you, but especially at your husband. The braids of the bard flowed in the wind as he felt is presence fade away.